I've seen you here before. Then you also made such a fuss. Chucking a chocolate milk cart on the floor, screaming with your hands on your head.
Now you’re again drawing all the attention towards you. Short, aggressive cries, like a dog barking. Your mother is doing what she can to calm you down, occasionally casting an apologetic look around her. But most people get the picture: there’s something wrong with you. You’re not normal. And this will pass. Your mother will eventually be able to calm you down, or someone from the staff will intervene, and then you’ll both leave.
Your hair sticks to your forehead and the bangs are cut too short. For a moment, it reminds me of the Frankenstein monster, but then I feel sorry about my thoughts and sit for half a minute staring at the juicy slice of lemon in my cup of tea.

Suddenly, I hear shouts. You’re on the floor. You stand up again, with your hands on your ears, grinding your teeth. A deep growling. Threatening. It scares me a little.
At the table opposite me sits a couple. A man with long greasy hair and a big moustache, and an obese woman with red dyed hair. The man looks at you with a contemptuous smile and discreetly elbows the woman. She observes you for a moment with a pitiful look on her face, then shrugs her shoulders and takes a big bite of her hamburger.

Your mother grabs your arm and gives you a stern look, shows you a coin. Now you're quiet. You scratch the tip of your nose and you’re all ears. She hands you the coin, says something and caresses your head.
Slowly, your back slightly bent, you make your way to the other side of the cafeteria, where there is a jukebox. You put the coin in and make your choice. A mellow guitar intro. I've heard the song before, but can't remember the title. You stand in front of the jukebox and sway your head. The bass and drums fall in. Now I recognize it. 'Nothing Else Matters' by Metallica. With closed eyes, you cradle your shoulders back and forth, then also your upper body and hips, placing your hands crossed over your chest, like a huge butterfly – your fingers like trembling wings, up and down with your breathing. Your face is completely relaxed and the corners of the mouth curl upwards. You take a deep breath. You're floating. It's like you’re holding yourself as a baby. You’re weightless, soundless. You breathe in the music and the dark void of your field of vision, and everything around you disappears.

The song is coming to its end. You slow down along with the fading volume. As you lower your hands from your chest, you open your eyes. You stand still for a moment, but then you walk back to the table, sit down next to your mother. She puts her hand on your shoulder and gives you a new milk cart. You take a few sips and look at the jukebox, at the part of yourself you left behind and that is still dancing there.